Her Grave
by Hysterical Kit
Summary: A little drabble where Kenshin visits her grave during the war.


"Hey, isn't that...?"

"Hmm...?" A samurai turned around to jump and pale, whispering back, "Shit! It is!"

They both gaped at the red-haired kid... with a cross scar on his cheek. Only one person in Kyoto suited that description...

Battousai.

But to their surprise and relief, the kid made no indication of killing them despite them wearing their Shinsengumi uniform and talking about him just a few meters away. The boy... was praying.

...then again... well duh... what else do you do in a graveyard before a grave?

They stared at the delicate grace of the boy famously known to kill hundreds within seconds. There was a silent sublime elegance in the simple, static act of praying... seeing the kid gently clean the small, nameless stone and decorate it with incense and flowers-white plum blossoms.

And was that... sake?

The expensive kind as well.

The kid so focused on the grave that he didn't look at them. Them so entranced by the scene that they couldn't... just wouldn't bother him. They quietly left. Somewhere, deep inside without them knowing, respect bloomed.

…

"That was..."

After a silence, they began speaking. Even then they couldn't describe it... at a loss for words. Okita's eyes twinkled as he tilted his head. His two men, who were going to visit a tombstone, quickly came back out. And with flowers and incense sticks still in their hands.

Saito, too, was curious. The four were there to honor the dead today.

"What was what?"

The still silent duo murmured in a trance, "...Battousai-"

They didn't finish as the new duo automatically rushed in with wide eyes. Their hands going to their swords as they were about to cut the... boy? Saito growled,

"Oi. Pick up your sword."

Despite being at sword-point (or two swords' points), the boy still prayed to the grave... after finishing up, eyes softly revealed themselves to be a gentle purple. Their minds idly wondering if there was a glare of light as Battousai's eyes were known to be a demonic yellow. The boy gazed at them for a while... before gazing back at the grave, dusting it off further despite the little stone already being clean. His mouth slightly parted to answer softly,

"Didn't bring it."

They stared... finally noticing that Battousai's two swords that cut down thousands in Kyoto were not there. No weapons at all... Okita blinked before sheathing his sword. Saito still adamantly holding his at the red-head's neck, just a small moment's away from killing his enemy...

"What are you doing here?"

Blink before a small smile-not mocking or sarcastic as he asked rhetorically, "What else do you do at a cemetery?"

This time the Shinsengumi blinked. Okita finally laughing as he held Saito's shoulder back,

"He's right. Saito. Sheathe your weapon."

Saito stared... before grunting and doing so. Not feeling like killing an armless boy in front of...

"Who's that?"

Those purple eyes glazed over with a profound sadness, "My wife."

"...oh."

There was a silence... as they stared at the proof that Battousai-the demon of Kyoto and cold-blooded hitokiri-has a heart and life. Okita looked at his own bundle of flowers before offering one to the generous stash of white plum blossoms. The purple eyes filled with pure gratitude-unlike the times they met in battle, these eyes weren't cold and emotionless... these eyes were honest and innocent.

A contrast that made them wonder if these two were even the same.

The two samurai from before anxiously approached their captains... hearing the slight conversation... one of them curious,

"Your eyes... they're not yellow?"

Battousai did not bother to turn, still softly gazing at the grave. Politely like any normal person before a grave. So normal an action.

"They turn colors when I fight... or feel like fighting."

Well, that was interesting. Being Shinsengumi, they filed that information in the back of their heads. The two fodder sighing in relief at the implication that the Battousai didn't feel like fighting.

It was fact that hitokiri could kill almost anyone with anything.

Saito narrowed his eyes, "Why didn't you bring your swords?"

There was a long silence, making Okita smile disarmingly, though curious himself. "Maa, maa, Saito. We should attend to our own-"

"I don't want to dishonor her death. Today... only today... I won't kill." The boy took out a bottle of sake and gave it Okita, "Tomoe says thanks for the flower, Okita-san."

With that, the hitokiri finally took his eyes off the grave and left. None of them chasing after the hitokiri. The smoke, smelling of hakubaiko, rising higher and embracing Okita as if in agreement with her husband's words. Okita smiled... before walking to the grave he was there for in the first place and ordering,

"Not a word about this to the others. The dead are to be respected."

"Hai!" The two fodder already deciding that a while ago. Saito lit a cigarette, staring at the small grave before leaving as well.

So the so-called hitokiri was a brat.

…

Moments later, they noted a muscular swordsman entering the cemetery with a big jug of sake and pouring it on the grave that Battousai not so long cleaned. Saito and Okita twitched... wondering what they should feel.

After all, enemies they may be... even they had to respect Battousai and whoever he loved to be like that for her.

But their sharp ears heard... to their shock,

"Hmph. So my idiot apprentice remembered to bring good sake..." The man paused before slowly wrapping the grave with a beautiful, silky blue scarf, "Thanks for taking care of him while he fights in this stupid war. Don't tell him that I bothered to come to Kyoto though."

The wind blew as the man left as the information finally finished soaking into their mind... That was Battousai's master?!

But... then again, it didn't matter. They eyed at the small, little grave of a once beautiful woman who could capture the heart of a hitokiri-the hitokiri that was once said to have no heart.

Kyoto was a city of blood and death. No one wanted the war to continue; everyone-even the hitokiris-had friends and family buried deep under the ground of the graveyard.

No one wanted to fight.

But... they will.

"Let's go, Okita. We have watch duty tonight."

"Osu."

The two left with stride after giving their last prayers to their own dead friends.

They will fight.

Though they did not want to... they will fight. Fight for the sake of the dead and the future for those living.

Fight until death... to prevent deaths.

Just like this war of theirs to end war.


End file.
